


don’t be naive, even heroes have the right to bleed

by Avarla18, BlueIsh_YellowIsh



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Depression, F/M, Gen, Help our poor boy peter, Hurt Peter, Just peter Parker going on the adventure of his lifetime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Peter Parker Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker-centric, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie) - Freeform, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Precious Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, hes so sad, this is our own version of the third Spider-Man movie in the MCU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:05:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avarla18/pseuds/Avarla18, https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueIsh_YellowIsh/pseuds/BlueIsh_YellowIsh
Summary: The world suddenly tunneled in around him and turned black at the edges, he heard echoed laughs and fuzzy sounds before it all cut out reducing the world to only the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt himself fall to his knees with a large thump and the controller fell from his hands and clattered to the floor. Tears began to prickle at his eyes and once they started, they poured out and refused to stop.He was dead.****Follow Peter on his journey to solve the greatest mystery of his life.





	1. Humpty Dumpty

**Author's Note:**

> I Blue, and my co writer, Avarla present,
> 
> ...
> 
> The most diabolical and ambitious thing we have ever written together,
> 
> We want to die.
> 
>  
> 
> Welcome the Journey of Peter Parker and  
> his run in with the Green Goblin.
> 
> VERY IMPORTANT
> 
> At the end of each chapter will be a voicemail, each one will reveal more about the mystery.

“Hey Karen, anything you see out there?”   
  
“Nothing at the moment Peter, how’s your churro?”   
  
Peter hummed softly and shrugged ignoring the slight ache in his shoulders. “Not as good as the nice old lady’s, but good.” He was mostly thankful that they even had churros, in Europe that is. And Europe was way different than Queens.   
  
He sat atop his hotel building legs swinging back in forth. He sighed feeling the tension leech out of his body, the stars were above gleaming in every direction. The constellations weren’t familiar, but somehow they were all the same, just stars millions of light years away. Peter missed the stars at Queens and the nights where he would marvel in awe of their brilliance.   
  
“I miss home,” he says aloud. He sniffled loudly and dragged his hand across his nose. He wasn’t crying, not at all, but the cold of night got to him. So, runny nose.   
  
“Would you like me to call Mister Stark?”   
  
“Uh, sure Karen, why not?” It felt like ages ago, from the last time they spoke in person, right before he left to Europe. Mister Stark said he’d be okay, and that it would be nice for Peter to have a vacation. But he also spoke to him with a tight smile, and a hurt face. Peter knew he was struggling, Mister Stark didn’t want Peter to be so far from home after what had happened.    
  
He rested his head slowly into his hands in thought. He remembered the sickness in his stomach and how his gut clenched and how he knew something, something was very wrong. And that’s when people began turning to dust around him. And then he did too. He remembered Mister Stark’s terrified and bloody face above him, and then he looked up to see the universe before he disappeared with it.   
  
Being dust was an out of body experience,  Orange was everywhere, and he spent hours, days, months or even years in a haze. Peter couldn’t really remember any of it, and neither did any of the others in the decimation.   
  
Then he was back as quickly as he left, back from the dead. The strangest part was that he knew that he died, and the sensation of being oblivion was suddenly gone. He felt as if the universe plucked away all memories of his stay at soul stone hotel.    
  
What he did recall was a certain Tony Stark, tear stricken, bloody and without his freaking left arm. But he was beaming bright, and smiling. He laughed a bit while the tears kept coming, and with his right hand he touched Peter’s face. His fingers were soft and they made his skin tickle. Peter reached his hand up and grabbed a hold on Tony’s. That’s when he pulled him into a huge hug, Peter felt his mentor’s warmth run through him and for the first time in forever he no longer felt cold. In that moment in the remains of the battle, Peter listened to the soft sounds of a beating heart.   
  
Peter snapped back to his mind, and he once again heard the low sounds of ringing.    
  
“Mister Stark is currently unavailable at this moment,” Karen said after a few more seconds.   
  
Huh, that was strange. No answer. “Do you have contact with Friday?”   
  
“No, I do not Peter.” She replied, Peter couldn’t help to notice the slight waver in her voice.    
  
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even spoken to Mister Stark since Mysterio.  Not since the entire freak show in Europe. Spider-Man was in an entire other country, and he somehow was very much needed.  Peter was constantly on edge since Mysterio’s defeat, and his near death experience definitely contributed to his tenseness.    
  
He racked his brain for memories of Tony Stark. He remembered a few calls during the night, when Mister Stark would call him in a cold sweat, mumbling about his missing appendage. Peter would calm him down with stories of day to day life in Europe. He’d tell him of hopes that he’d be home soon, back to Queens with Aunt May and back to lab nights with Mister Stark.  Some nights it would be Peter’s turn to call after he faded into dust again in his dreams and then would never return. Tony would reassure him that he was safe and that he was Spider-Man, who was stronger than anyone.    
  
Then there would be voicemails left by Tony in his phone, ones that he never got a chance to listen to, or ones from Pepper, Happy or Rhodey. But being Spider-Man was a busy job, and a dangerous one.   
  
He remembered fond memories of times where there never was a care in the world. Just Star Wars marathons or prank wars. Just hanging out with Mister Stark baking cookies. And then after Thanos, still doing Star Wars marathons and pranks wars and baking cookies. Peter would like to think nothing had changed, nothing at all. For a moment to believe that he was not left as scarred as the rest of the universe. And for a moment he would like to believe that Mister Stark didn’t lose a left arm. Peter saw that baking cookies was harder with one hand. Mister Stark once dropped the pan of freshly baked chocolate ones, Peter was quick enough to catch the batch before they fell. Mister Stark apologized to no end, Peter wanted to say it was okay and that it wasn’t his fault.    
  
The thing was, it was never okay. Peter never learned how Mister Stark lost his arm, and he would never dare to ask. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t wonder. How did it happen?    
  
Sometimes when they were just lounging around and hanging out, he would glance at the bump of skin where an arm used to belong. Peter felt like it was a invasion of privacy to look but sometimes his curiosity got the better of him. Mister Stark’s entire arm was gone, there was just part of a shoulder left. He thought that it would be smooth skin where it was missing, but the area was quite mangled and left with scarred tissue. Peter could also only imagine the awkwardness of just daily tasks, tasks that he didn’t really think about much. Like putting on a shirt, or taking one back off.   
  
Then there was phantom pains, Mister Stark only told Peter about it once, but when he didn’t tell, he showed in actions. Peter would notice Mister Stark reaching up and rubbing the area occasionally as if it hurt. Or sometimes he would lean over to the left as if to grab something, and then he would pause as if just realizing about his arm. There would be and audible sigh and then he would walk over and grab it with his right hand. On days like these, Peter felt bad, but if he dared say anything Mister Stark would probably think of it as pity.    
  
His thoughts were interrupted by a very urgent Karen.    
  
“Peter, you have a call from Pepper Potts.” Once again her voice carried a bit to much worry.    
  
“Answer it please.” He waited to hear Pepper’s voice.   
  
“Peter, are you there?” He was alarmed to hear the panic in her voice. He stood up quickly on the roof he sat on.   
  
“Pepper!” He couldn’t help but yell. “Miss Potts what’s wrong?”   
  
“Peter I-,” she paused for a bit to long, “It’s-.” She was cut off.   
  
“Pepper, what’s wrong, Pepper, Miss Potts!” Peter felt anxiety spike up in his chest.    
  
“She was disconnected Peter,” Karen said.   
  
“Call her back, right now,” he said angrily. He began pacing back and forth. After each ring, he felt his heart sink it bit deeper. His breath began to speed up and he paced faster.    
  
“The call was not completed, Peter.” said Karen.    
  
“Well then call Happy right now,” He swallowed the lump in his throat, “Be quick about it.” The low ringing tones were driving him crazy, one after another.    
  
Ring. Ring. 

  
“Happy has not answered either.” Karen said disappointedly. Peter huffed about and tried to control his breathing.    
  
“Then call Rhodey!” He wasn’t even embarrassed at all when his voice choked up and cracked. His palms began to get sweaty.   
  
Ring. Ring. Ring.

  
“Rhodey has not answered.”    
  
“Shit, oh my gosh,” Peter fell to his knees huffing and puffing. He moved his shaking arms wrap and hug around himself. “Something mu-ust be wrong,” he managed to stutter out, “Karen tell me what’s wrong!” He almost screamed and then registered regret for yelling at her.   
  
“I don’t know Peter I-,” she paused, “I am receiving a message from Friday.”    
  
“Put it through now!” Peter yelled.   
  
“Hello Peter,” she spoke but sounded off, “I’m sorry for your loss.” She said, ending the last word in a higher tone. “You’re next.” Her voice was cruel.    
  
“Friday what are you talking about?” Peter asked hesitantly.   
  
Karen butted in and interrupt them both. “I’m sorry but your intentions prove to be hostile, prepare to be disconnec-“ Karen stopped talking.   
  
“We can’t have that, can we?” Friday said.   
  
Peter began to grow dizzy from his uneasiness. “Friday what’s going on?”   
  
“Why don’t you see for yourself,” she said in a sing song voice, “Peter,” she growled out his name. “Go inside and why don’t you go take a look at the TV.”   
  
Peter jumped up to his feet swaying and ran inside. “Turn on for the news channel,” she whispered in his ear, a phantom voice.

  
He fumbled for the remote missing the on button a few times. The TV flicked on, and he flipped to the news channel.    
  
The world suddenly tunneled in around him and turned black at the edges, he heard echoed laughs and fuzzy sounds before it all cut out reducing the world to only the sound of his own heartbeat. He felt himself fall to his knees with a large thump and the controller fell from his hands and clattered to the floor. Tears began to prickle at his eyes and once they started, they poured out and refused to stop.    
  
He breathing was harsh and his shaking limbs refused to be coordinated, he tried to get up or say a word but he just couldn’t. Panic welled up into his chest like a heavy iron ball sunken inside of him. His trembling hands managed to rip of the Spider-Man man mask. He lowered his head to the floor and let it all out, voice and throat going raw from his anguished screams. His shaking hands snaked into his hair and clenched hair til his knuckles turned white and he cried even harder. His tears formed a puddle on the ground, the salty tears making a mess of the carpet. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t of happened.

_ ”And tonight we shocking story, one that will cause some mourning among a great many people.  _

 

_ This morning, Tony Stark was found dead in the Avengers Compund. No official word had been released, but we assume his death was most likely murder. Police and forensics are on the scene, investigating as I speak. Whether a nurse or not, today will be a sad day, as this world will remember Tony Stark, a genius, a revolutionist, and a hero.” _

****

  
_November 26, 2019_

  
_4:09 pm_

* _Beep*_

_“Hi Pete. It’s uh, it’s Tony. I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked, and that’s probably my bad. Cleaning up and restoring peace around here since Thanos has been... well, if I’m being honest, it’s been absolute hell._

_I guess that’s why I’ve beem so busy lately, but things are finally looking up. So... I just wanted to check in, y’know? How have you been doing? Has the suit been holding up well? May says your coming back soon._

_Uhm, anyways, you better get your ass back here in a New York soon, kiddo. And your first stop better be Stark Tower. We’re fixing up that suit of yours._

_You’ve been doing really great out there..._ _but superheroes and going abroad don’t mix, you know? I bet you learned that in Germany, haha..._

_Heh.._ _._

_Before you come back , I just wanted to let you know that things aren’t exactly... the same around here anymore. I know a lot of people didn’t like me very much, but after Thanos, it’s gotten really bad. Like really bad._

_...like how there’s protesters outside my_ _bedroom window bad. I guess not everyone aprroved of our methods._

_So just be careful, ok? Take the back entrance I showed you, because they’re-_

_They’re-_

_Uh..._

_... pretty much ruthless._

_Damn, I’m screwing up this voicemail so badly... I’m sorry Peter, Call me when you have a chance._

_Bye.”_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 


	2. Sat On a Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter breaks down. His friends try to help him the best they can. They really do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Important*
> 
> Yay!!! My turn!!!
> 
> I’m sorry for putting my boi through so much suffering...
> 
> Also, just a quick warning. There is a bit of self-inflicted hurt in this chapter (it’s not intentional, but still). I just wanted to warn everyone if they don’t want to read about that. Stay safe guys!! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter. It actually was really cool to write.
> 
> **Announcement time: Blue and I are going to a camp for spring break that does not allow phones (I know, I’m going through withdrawal already) so the next chapter won’t be for a while.
> 
> Happy reading. (^-^)

Don’t Be Naive 

Chapter 2

He hadn’t realized when the screaming had stopped.

Peter wished it hadn’t. Because he could hear everything right now. His own muffled sobs. The news reporter droning on. The tear drops quietly thumping on the floor.

He should’ve been there. In New York. Back with Tony. He could have helped him, he could’ve-

He could’ve- 

Defended him.

How... how could this happen? Tony- he had been the one thing constant in his life lately, the one thing he trusted not to leave... 

Parker luck was shit.

That was the one thing constant in his life.

Oh, the irony.

Peter wasn’t sure how much time went on after that thought. He sort of just sat there. In a haze.

Was this how Tony felt on Titan? To watch him die? To watch a living, breathing body slowly disintegrate into nothingness? Did he scream as loud as Peter did? Did he sob and wail as much as Peter did? Or did he stifle quiet cries?

Did he wish to leave with him? 

Did he ever wonder what it would be like to glance down and slowly watch his hand crumble? To finally receive the sweet release from the pain and grief soon to come?

Peter couldn’t even speak. He couldn’t even put a sentence together. He felt like punching a hole in the wall. He felt like curling up into a ball on the floor like a toddler. He felt like screaming and shaking his fists at whatever god was up there. Whatever person would let someone like Tony die.

Tony Stark wasn’t supposed to die. He was a legend. He was always there, and he was always going to be. No, heroes didn’t die. People like Peter died. Insignificant people who just tagged along for the ride, reckless people who made the most idiotic choices human beings were capable of. 

It wasn’t supposed to work this way.

“Peter?”

It was Karen. His suit buzzed and rumbled on his chest.

“Peter, I know this isn’t a very convenient time, but your friends heard you crying. I’d advise changing quickly.”

Her words barely registered. “What?”

“You’re friends are coming to check on you, Peter.”

They were coming. Ned and MJ were in the hotel rooms on the same floor as his.

Oh.

Peter didn’t feel the spike of fear that he usually did. Normally, it sent him throwing clothing left and right, shoving his suit in whatever dark corner he could, and flinging himself toward the door to lock it. Throw in a crappy excuse to May, and that was his usual grand return from patrol.

But that didn’t happen this time. Everything felt monotone now. He slowly wandered to his hotel dresser and looked for something to change into. 

And then he froze.

That was a Stark Industries shirt.

It was like he was afraid to touch it. It seemed like poison that would burn his hand. Simultaneously, it seemed like a precious blessing from Tony above.

Peter stared at it for a few minutes. That beautiful, painful, shirt.

He angrily threw it to the corner of the room.

This went on for a few minutes more. The blue shirt with the science puns on it?

He wore that touring Stark Tower.

So, no.

The shirt Pepper and Tony had bought him for his birthday?

Definitely not.

The MIT sweatshirt Tony had thrown at him when the lab’s heater malfunctioned for the tenth time that winter? (Spiders don’t do well in the cold, Peter had found out.)

Oh, hell no. Why hadn’t he given that damn thing back? 

Clothes went flying. The pile slowly grew into a monster ready to devour Peter’s bed. Why the hell didn’t he have anything normal to wear?? The monster began to entice tears to roll from Peter’s eyes.

He finally decided on a dark black decathlon shirt from last year’s competition crammed at the bottom of the drawer. It was wrinkled, and Peter hadn’t even realized he’d packed it. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, now, and things were getting blurry.

A terrible thought flew through his head.

Black is the color for mourning, isn’t it?

No shit.

He flung open his bottom drawer, which was pitifully empty save for a singular pair of sweatpants staring back at him. 

They were Tony’s.

Dear God, of course they were.

—-

“Peter?”

There was a quiet knock on the door. It thumped through his room.

Peter didn’t move.

He was on his bed. How did he get on his bed? He had no idea. He barely even remembered getting dressed. But here he was in borrowed, wrinkled clothes. Sitting on the comforter. Picking at the seems. His nails angrily dug into his palms. 

The door creaked open. Ned walked in slowly, unsure of what to say. He looked tired, exhausted actually. Ned had never met Tony personally, but he still looked devastated. He’d learned to love Tony through Peter’s excitement and stories of labs and Avenger training. It was almost ironic Ned didn’t meet someone that close and important to him.

Peter sighed. He wished he’d locked the door.

“Peter....”

He didn’t look up. 

“I’m so- 

-wait... what is that?”

Now Ned has his attention. “What?” Peter’s head jerked up. 

“You’re bleeding, Peter!” Ned, bless his soul, hated the sight of blood. Somehow, the guy who passed out during dissections was alright with rushing towards Peter and cradling his hands.

Peter looked down into his lap. Blood was sleeping through his hands. He lifted it up and squeezed, enticed with the dribbles of blood quickly gaining speed as they worked their way through the cracks of his knuckles-

“Peter! Stop!” Ned was crying, now. “Stop doing that, you’ll make it worse!” 

His face paled and his voice hitched as he forced Peter’s fingers to uncurl. He gently placed them back on Peter’s lap. “Just-just stay here, okay? I’ll g-go grab the med kit.”

Ned dashed out of the door, almost colliding with the wall in his haste. Peter watched him go, every part of his body rigidly still. He fought off the urge to make a fist again.

What the hell was wrong with him? 

Peter just sat there. The pathetic pile of human limbs he was. He sat there and waited, hoping the blood would come out of Tony’s sweatpants.  
Or maybe that it wouldn’t. He’d have an excuse to throw them out. Would he throw them out? He didn’t know.

He waited.

And waited...

And waited some more.

And after what seemed like an eternity, the door finally cracked open. However, it wasn’t who Peter thought it was going to be.

MJ burst through the door, this time. Her usual calm and collected vibe was completely wiped away. Her bun was falling out, and curls were flying in her face. In one hand, she carried the first aid kit. In the other, she dragged an unconscious Ned by the foot.

She stopped and stood there in the doorway. Her eyes flickered as she looked to Peter, who looked to Ned, and then back to her again.

As if things couldn’t get any worse.

MJ’s voice was soft. Emotional, even. If Peter even dared to use that word to describe her.

“I-uh.. I had used the med kit after I pricked myself sewing a new patch on my jacket. Ned sorta ran into my room, blabbing with panic and looking for it. I got the basic gist of what he said... and then he passed out, just like in-“

“-the Bio dissections last year?”

“Yeah.” She gently set Ned’s foot on the floor, huffing a humorless laugh at the bizarreness of the situation.

Peter didn’t join in.

She looked back at Ned, unsure of what to do with him. She seemed to make up her mind that he was content to stay there, as she walked over to the bed and gently sat next to Peter, the med kit in tow. 

She carefully led Peter to the bathroom. He let the cold water sap the feeling away and watched the blood swirl down the drain. MJ took out the gauze and dressed Peter’s wounds. Her slender fingers bandaged his palm, his wrist. Both  
were silent, save for MJ’s “You’re lucky my mom made me take that stupid nursing class.”

And then they sat on the bed again. Both of them watched Ned’s chest rise up and down with his soft breathing. MJ had placed a pillow under his head. Peter had broken into his stash of mini orange juice bottles, ready for Ned to wake up. 

And then he froze. 

The Spider-Man mask was just laying there.

In the middle of the room.

For everyone to see.

Panic began to cloud his mind. Why, why now- He couldn’t take this anymore. Peter’s breath hitched and he began to feel the sob welling up-

MJ placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s ok, nerd. I already know.”

Wh...

What?

Peter felt dizzy. Like he was going to join Ned on the floor soon.

“What do you-“

“I’ve known for a while, now. All the absences, the missing decathlon practices... things began to add up.”

Peter just say there, stupidly. “Oh.”

“The dead give away was when Spider-Man randomly appeared in DC for a week.”.

Yes, Peter had to admit that wasn’t his smartest move. 

Well, that was anticlimactic.

MJ smiled. Peter smiled.

No, scratch that. For the first time that entire day, Peter actually laughed. It was painful. It was beautiful. But Peter laughed. And then he cried. MJ laughed. And MJ even cried. She held him and they both cried. 

And Peter told her everything. Everything from day one. And she held him and she quietly listened, not even interrupting him once. And when Peter got to the part where Tony recruited him for the Germany fight, he choked.

God, he choked so bad. His cheeks flooded with the heat of embarrassment, he stuttered, he hiccuped, he spat out unintelligible words, and then he grew quiet.

MJ didn’t prod him to continue. She sat there quietly, wrapping and unwrapping the leftover bandages around her thumb.

Ned stirred. They woke him up. They filled him in. He looked at Peter’s bandaged hands with relief. He took the orange juice gratefully.

And then Peter continued his story.

His messy, painful, stuttering mess of a story. 

And then he sobbed. He wept, he mourned, whatever you wanted to call it. Peter was exhausted, and this was his breaking point. 

He sobbed and screamed and wailed. He sat there and cried like there was no tomorrow, because if he wasn’t honest with himself, it didn’t seem like there was.

Karen was a static-y mess in his mask. Blood coated the stupid shirt and Tony’s sweatpants. It was all over MJ and Ned and Peter. It mixed with the salty tears and the fresh bandages.

Peter sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed, held by Ned and MJ, who both exchanged solemn glances.

 

*****  
November 26, 2019

11:36 pm.

*Beep*

“Hey so it’s Tony again, uh-,” a pause, “I don’t know why I’m calling, but they, uh- told me too.” 

“There’s this new villain, I don’t know what to call him but Iron Man is trying to handle him alone, uh I- I don’t know how long Iron Ma-, I don’t know how long I can handle it, you know with the, with ah, no left arm,” He laughed, almost bitterly.

“Yeah, so, you do you in Europe, I know you’re gonna be home soon, and then we can hang out again, maybe.”

“Crap you're probably not even gonna get this message, I-,” another pause, “What’s wrong with talking with him, you just said, ugh.”

“Sorry Pete, I got to, I gotta go, um they told me not to talk to you.” There is unintelligible mumbling, too soft to decipher.

“Bye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to let me know if I suck at reading below XD
> 
> Im just kidding haha. But seriously, comments, kudos, and criticism are all definitely appreciated!!
> 
> Have a great day!

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so there we go! Comments and Kudos are welcome! Please don’t kill me, I’m so sorry, but don’t worry it will get better!


End file.
